#we'll save that lore drop for another day i think

[thegreatyin]

so. to tldr + elaborate on a few things now that people have had time to read this absolute trainwreck:

both the robe and the resurrection endings of nemesis are technically canon in the scoundrel's continuity. officially, caeru chose the robe ending. he just also happened to invent his own resurrection ending because he's a batshit insane freak

the above decision (believe it or not) wasn't actually motivated by personal regret! i've had this plot twist in mind for months, even before the scientist completed his ambition. i chose his in-game ending knowing full well he would spiral and manifest the other one in the worst way possible. i'm very satisfied with my choice and its results, even if my character very much is not (⁠◠⁠‿⁠・⁠)⁠—⁠☆

the plutonian shadow's true identity is that of the doomed scientist's resurrected lover. his ""real name"" or at least the only name he remembers going by is greylu. his current body can best be described as a wholly artificial noman contained in a wooden mannequin shell. he also doubles as the future protagonist of my bag a legend playthrough :)

the shadow's ""heart"" is a mass of melted-together mountain shreds, which help animate him in a manner similar to clay men, as well as reflecting the apocyan memories that give him his (deceptively complicated) identity in the first place. this apocyan light flows throughout his entire body and specifically leaks out of his unfinished eyesocket. he cannot control this. fortunately, it is not painful.

if this diamond was to be removed, damaged, or otherwise tampered with in any way, he would collapse instantly. it is effectively his brain as well as his heart. mr stones do not interact, he's just a little guy :(

to this day, caeru has no idea where the shadow is and what the yearner has done with him. this causes him no small amount of stress.

the shadow, meanwhile, has been living with the yearner and the scarred naturalist. he does not know exactly who created him or the circumstances surrounding said creation, only that the vake yearner "rescued" him and took him in when he had nowhere else to go. he trusts her completely. he thinks she's his best friend in the whole wide world (which, to be entirely fair- he only knows, like, 3 people tops)

the vake yearner is definitely 100% sinister about her intentions surrounding him but i like to think they do buddy-buddy stuff anyway. literally nothing supports this. it's just a headcanon i have. the yearner is taking the shadow on evil snow playdates and he is hanging on her every word and they are having a lovely time (provided you ignore the kidnapping and gaslighting)

the vake and the yearner know each other carnally. i will not elaborate on this.

the silverer lived!!! she's okay. she's vibing. she probably put caeru in the doghouse for a little while but their relationship has somehow survived this particular shooting incident. possibly because both of them have experienced infinitely worse.

the scoundrel has no idea any of this has happened. as far as it's concerned it had a lovely christmas and it has no idea where its husband has gone or why everyone is suddenly all up in arms about trying to find its evil snowwoman clone. it's lonely :(

lark/the unlucky songbird is equally completely and utterly uninformed about current homunculi-related-events, but to be entirely fair, that's kind of the norm for him

caeru still loves greylu. greylu still loves caeru. they both love each other very, very much.

they miss each other even more.

On heartbreak, homunculi, and the small yet very awkward matter of shooting one's girlfriend in the neck over your ex

OR: How The Doomed Scientist has been coping in the aftermath of his ambition (Badly. The answer is very very badly indeed.)

OR: A loosely abridged summary of an RP between myself and @superoffbatter, posted on Tumblr for OC lore purposes.

OR: Major spoilers for the entirety of the Nemesis ambition, as well as minor spoilers for Bag a Legend and a brief spot of blog-typical spoilers for a certain "powerful" ending of Heart's Desire.

OR: What The Plutonian Shadow's deal actually is.

So.

In order to explain this long and complicated tale, we're going to need to set a good bit of groundwork first. For some, this will effectively be a recap. For others, it will be important new lore that will harm us later.

Let's dive right in, shall we?

The Doomed Scientist- also known by his real name, Caeru- has a long and storied history of obsessing over serving others. He's always had this concept in his head that he needs to help, he needs to give himself up for the good of everyone around him, and if he's not doing that then he barely deserves to live at all.

This is the mindset that drove his quest to kill Mr Cups. He wasn't doing it for himself. He was doing it for everyone Cups has hurt, everyone Cups has murdered, every other victim that died so it could fulfill its need for stories of vengeance and misery. During his ambition, he very much saw himself as nothing more than a tool and a weapon to be pointed and used as the dead saw fit.

His own emotions didn't matter. His own grief, all-consuming as it was, didn't matter. Cups needed to die.

Cups- Cups needed to-

Oh, fuck.

He couldn't do it. He couldn't take it. He had an obligation towards those that died, towards his lover, towards everyone who ever wanted the beast dead. He couldn't take it. He just couldn't.

No matter how much he desperately, desperately wanted to.

For the first few weeks after his ambition concluded, Caeru was inconsolable. He was wracked with guilt over ""failing"" to save his former paramour, even more than he was already- for god's sake, the man could've been revived! He could've lived again! He deserved to live again!

And Caeru failed him. He failed to serve him. To be useful. To be good. To be worthy of living.

He... lost it, just a little bit. He became obsessed with fixing this perceived flaw in himself. This perceived flaw in everything. He couldn't sleep yet, he couldn't die yet, not when his love deserved to live.

Deserved to come back.

And. I mean. Well.

How hard could it be, really?

Cups was a Master, yes, and the Masters are lying conniving tyrants- but this was a promise it staked its life upon. A promise it gave on its deathbed. It clearly knew that Caeru could kill it, will kill it, and thus it had no reason to lie-

Cups could have brought his lover back. The Scientist knew that, intimately.

What he didn't know was how. But... well, that's alright, isn't it? He's created life before.

Lenses are arranged, corpses are arranged in a circle, their skin parted carefully with a knife. When the lenses are aligned correctly, the flesh will coalesce into the correct shape.

There are some venge-rats that dedicate themselves to a vengeance so thoroughly that there is nothing left of them but this one desire. When they die, their corpses are saturated with this emotion- but nothing else. When the Academic's machinery leaps to life (more slowly then the one at Station VIII, of course) it drains this, and leaves only withered shells in its wake. Perfect vessels.

Soon, the Knot of Tails reappears in the mirror. In its little coils of many paws, shimmering lights rest- memories. Reflections of rays of light long forgotten by the waking world.

And the false-Noman twists.

It turns.

Second by second, it looks more and more like a person.

When it looks up and smiles a shaky smile, its face is human- and two delicate flowers adorn its hair. The snow lacing its body curls like silk, the nails on its hands delicate and precise and perfect

It doesn't move, for a second. Two. Three.

And then the Rosette Yearner opens her eyes.

All he has to do is perfect the process.

The Yearner reaches a trembling hand up to her head, pursuing her lips in thoughtful silence. She blinks, slowly- once, twice. The silence is finally broken when she speaks, a trembling lilt, her words falling like petals from their stem.

"I'm alive.”

It's cold, unfeeling, distant. Like she's only talking about the weather.

Caeru's first attempt at artificial life, The False Yearner- she who would later be dubbed The Vake Yearner- is a complicated figure. Born out of an insanely long RP exchange with @superoffbatter, she is a ghost in all but name. A failed attempt to replicate a certain Scoundrel's past self, all while her makers were unaware that her and the Scoundrel were one in the same.

Except while the Scoundrel pursued ambitions of power, glory, and transformation, the Yearner ultimately took a different path. A darker path.

The Yearner stumbles over the mirror as they both exit through the window of the Royal Bethlehem. She sighs. "Where to go, now?" she whispers. "I can't stay here. I don't want to stay like this. I want to... do something."

The Silverer shrugs. "It's up to you. I suppose you could hunt the Vake if all else fails?" It's an offhandedly thrown joke, but the Yearner stops moving.

She considers it in her head. She takes a deep breath.

The Vake, huh. The Vake.

She became an avid hunter of the Neath's most infamous monster.

Her relationship with her creator is strained at best. For the most part, they've refused to acknowledge each other- they've hardly even spoken since the incident of her creation, save for a brief yet notable encounter at the Captivating Princess' last masquerade ball.

Someone steps closer to the Scientist, staring him in the eyes. The atmosphere grows colder.

It's a woman in a large fur-trimmed overcoat, with thick gloves and a staggeringly realistically furred marsh-wolf mask. The cosmogone shade of her eyes reveals her identity- the False Yearner- or, as some have taken to call her, the Vake-Yearner. The mask, now that the Scientist gives it a better look, is very obviously made from a real marsh-wolf, but the expert skill behind it... it's Snuffer-made.

The Yearner got a Snuffer to pull off a wolf's face for her. How curious.

"My other self's fiancé." she says, in a monotone. "And their pet Drownie. How curious. How droll."

The Scientist's face may be hidden behind a mask, but nothing could ever hope to conceal his alarmed blanch, the widening of his eyes, the shift of his stance- distinctly defensive, like a prey animal ready to flee at any moment.

"Yearner." his tone is one of forced detachment. "I never took you as someone who'd.. enjoy this sort of thing."

A glance to the side, where violant eyes (albeit from a distance) still gleam amidst the other invitees. Their mask is smiling, even if their lips are pulled into a wickedly fanged frown.

His mask tips downward. He doesn't retract this statement.

It ended... well. Shall we say. Poorly.

He is allowed in the scene- and witnesses the frozen corpses.

Dead, for sure, though how permanent it will be is yet to be tested. A thin layer of frost clings to their skin, and the scene is obviously filled with signs of struggle. Eight bodies, all trying to leave the room as they were cut down- all trying to escape.

Signs of a blunt instrument. Some of them were smashed against the walls, against the ground- one had both arms torn off. Frozen splatters of blood cover the walls.

The Yearner is nowhere to be seen.

The Yearner, after all, is what can best be described as an immortal and unmelting Noman, sustaining herself off of nothing but sorrow and human hearts. Her very existence is built upon blood and misery. She thrives off it. Needs it to survive, to live, to flourish.

Nobody deserves that kind of existence. Not even the Scoundrel's very own doppelganger.

But she's alive. And she did come back from some sort of death, hellish and ironic and false as it may be. It can be done.

The Scientist has done it before.

He can do it again.

He will do it again.

And so Caeru works. And works. And works.

To serve. To fix. To help. Finally, he's going to rectify his mistake, going to make everything better, going to give his lover the life he knows they deserve. This is a noble service. A noble obligation. The last attempt may have failed, but this- this cannot fail- he will not let himself fail, not again, not ever.

And nothing can stand in his way. Nothing except-

"Caeru?" a voice can be heard, knocking on the door to the Scientist's laboratory. "Are you there?"

Were one to look through the one-way glass window, they would see the Silverer, looking worried. "Where were you?" she says. "I haven't seen you all week. What has got you locked in there?" she taps again, more hurried-

-His current paramour, The Snowswept Silverer.

A loud crash echoes at the Silverer's sixth knock. Someone curses. The door slams open harsh enough to send her flinching back, the Scientist standing in the doorway with a look of pure vitriol- then, far slower than his typical reaction speed, his fury ebbs.

"Louise." his voice is gratingly hoarse, his hair tied in a half-hazard bun via a thoroughly exhausted ribbon struggling to keep the strands together (it would be a cute look, if not for the blue hue in his cheeks and the blood and dirt caking his arms). His laboratory is- cold. Blisteringly cold. He's barely even shivering, but- surely it can't be healthy, staying in there for so long-?

"I'm... working." he stresses the word as though it's an obvious and irrefutable explanation. "Can we talk in-" he looks back, "A month?" he has the audacity to pause thoughtfully. "Two?"

And thus the preamble concludes, and the pieces and players of our play all finally fall into place.

"...Caeru, I’m not stupid." Louise replies, giving him a throughly unimpressed look. "Is this yet another Yearner situation?"

The accompanying dumbfounded expression that her paramour produces would cause her some amount of delight, were this any other situation. As it is, she is simply more worried- and a fair bit annoyed, as well. "Yes, I know you were involved with her creation, somehow. You and the Academic were rather obvious about it. Whatever you've been doing inside this laboratory, Caeru, it's not nearly as discreet as you think it is. You have a budget, and whenever you ask for it to be extended or spend carelessly on a new batch of supplies, people see it happen-”

Her paramour squirms uncomfortably. She continues her rant unabated.

“-The GHR is in fact a major supplier of experimental materials for the University. As long as it's an import from the Hinterlands, I know what comes in here and what comes out. And I know for sure a certain Yearner has also been looking around your laboratory. I would have left you to your devices, but this will lead to a disaster if I don't interfere."

Her hand- which he notices is clawed- is putting quite a lot of pressure on his shoulder. "Tell me, Caeru. What have you been doing?"

He gulps. The look in her eyes is... serpentine in its wrath, even. Like a Knot who's just caught a scout from the Court of Cats intruding into its home. It's a look that demands an account.

His expression twists- regret, guilt, frustration, desperation. "Louise," he says softly, "Please, just- just give me more time. A week or two more, and- and this will all be done and over with. You'll never have to hear about it again. Please."

He tries to shy away from her hand and take a step back- it's not exactly successful, given his strength relative to hers. His hands tremble. His arms are slick and ruby red- weeping scars, never bandaged-

"I don't want to fight you." a rustle, as one hand drifts down to his pocket, so quiet as to be barely noticeable. "Please." he begs again. "Please don't make me fight you. It's not like the Yearner, it's- it's important, I can't just- please don't make me. Please."

Needless to say, things quickly go from bad to worse.

"Go ahead. Fight her." another voice, intensely recognizable, echoes through the corridor. The Scoundrel's voice- but colder. Less shrill. Less amused. "She won't leave you alone, and neither will I."

The Yearner stands there. Her feathery black dress is covered in blood- fresh. Going by the faint gurgling sounds, someone tried to block her way- and she reacted as she often does.

"I could feel something happening down here. I didn't know what it was, but it felt... important. Thank you for the confirmation that it was very important indeed." she steps forward. In her hand is a large spike of ice, the size of a sword. "Will you let me see it, Caeru? Or shall I tell your husband of what you’ve done? Of how I came to be? I still have that to hold over you, at least. I wonder if they would like to know what happened to that cufflink." the word is hissed, and she smiles in delight at the way he flinches.

(It's... so recognizable, Caeru realizes, and yet so twisted. They sound completely identical. If one were to ignore the face made of ice, they would even be able to identify the similarities- and the sharp differences. It's a little bit disquieting, to see her face. The Scoundrel does... does not make this kind of expression, even at their worst. The only kind of person who does is a certain Mr Veils. It's the sort of look only someone who delights in misery shows.)

He has no other options. No other way out.

He will not fail again. He will never let himself fail again.

A thousand possibilities run through his mind, all at once, before he can even so much as blink. The window- no. The door- terrifyingly fragile. The mirrors- if they weren't already swarming with serpents, he'd be shocked. No solution comes without violence, without- he can't lose again, he can't leave again, he-

The Scientist draws fast as a lightning bolt and shoots his paramour square in the chest, flipping the pistol and shooting a second time for good measure. The desperate scream of his apology can barely be heard over the slam of the door, the clicking of several dozen locks, the mad dash to retrieve something before what little safety he has inevitably gives way.

His prize is bundled in rags, apocyan soaking through the white cloth, pieces of shattered diamond and wood clippings scattered half-hazardly all over the floor-

Run. Run.

Thus the infamous girlfriend shooting incident. Don't worry, she gets better. For the most part.

Everyone else, well... they get substantially worse.

The Scientist acts on instinct, cradling his experiment against his chest. Not again. Never again. He turns when the door inevitably gives way and fires again, futile as it may be.

The bullet does not do much- not when the door is promptly kicked off its hinges, the locks snapping and shattering as the sheer force of the Yearner's kick propels it forward. In that moment, Caeru realizes that while the door was very secure, the frame is nothing but a few planks of wood. It wouldn't hold.

On the floor, bleeding profusely through the wound in her neck (though the ambery growths around it show it will be closing soon, whether it wants to or not), is the Silverer- who stares at the Yearner in horror. "This was not our deal." she hisses.

The Yearner shrugs. "I don't care."

And then she lunges for her prize like a woman possessed. Her eyes gleam, staring fixedly at the bundle in the Scientist's arms. "Either you tell me what that bundle is and why I feel so intensely that I need to see it, or I'll make you tell me." she purrs. "Make the choice, my dear creator.”

He desperately curls around the bundle, hugging it close enough for it to nearly bend under his grip- nearly. Whatever it is, it's sturdier than it looks.

"You can't take him." he gasps without thinking. "You can't- you can't take him, you can't hurt him, you can't-" he backs up against the wall and trembles. The weight makes him stagger with every step. When the Yearner approaches, he flinches. "You can't hurt him."

A delirious sob. The room is freezing. His skin is tinted such a vibrant shade of blue. It's a miracle he isn't already dead from hypothermia. Slowly, carefully, still keeping his gun aimed at the Yearner, his other hand pulls back part of the cloth- and the hand that dangles free is clawed and formed almost entirely from lacre.

Just like her.

"He's mine." Caeru whispers, pressing his head to the apocyan stains with equal parts guilt and adoration. "He's mine. And nobody will ever take him again."

The Silverer stumbles into the room, a gun in hand. The Yearner waves dismissively- and fractal spikes of ice erupt from the ground to block her advance. From the mirrors in the room, Fingerkings hiss and spit in fury- the Yearner should probably stay away from Parabola for a few weeks. She turns to look at the Scientist in disdain.

"Bringing back the dead." she spits. "Once again. You should know it gets you nowhere. Look at what you did before. You tried to return me to the world, when I wasn't ever real at all!" she yells. "An illusion. A dream! Delusions of high society and bohemian dreams of a waif that was never anything but a facade!" she roars, coming closer. "Who was it this time?! Tell me! Who was-”

She pauses, before smiling. It is not a nice smile. "Your lover, wasn't it? The seventh victim. Did you realize that killing Mr Cups would never return what you lost!?"

The words sting. They sting, because she doesn't know, how could she know. Her eyes are wild and mad. "Drop it. Let it go. You don't deserve to have them back.”

The Scientist chokes on a sob. He doesn't deny a word. His knees buckle- he slides down to the floor, holding the bundle like a lifeline and a precious piece of treasure, all rolled into one. "I know." his voice is calm, even with the tears sliding down his cheeks. "I don't deserve him."

He's- the Silverer recognizes the look in his eyes. He's never been more confident about anything else in the world.

"I'm not doing this for myself," the words ring slightly hollow when he's clinging to his creation on the floor, "I'm doing it for him. When Cups died, it-" his tone wavers. Caeru swallows. The despair and guilt in his voice is intoxicating, especially to a Noman standing so very close indeed.

"It begged for its life. It gave me an offer. It could bring him back, if I spared it." he looks beyond the Yearner- staring intently at a shadow on the wall, as though somehow it could stare back. "I couldn't- I couldn't, for everyone else it murdered, I couldn't-" he chokes. "I failed him. I failed him. He deserved to live, he deserved to come back- and I failed, and-"

He kicks at a spare diamond on the floor, watching it twist and freeze into place within moments of making contact with the Yearner. "I'm fixing it. I'm fixing him."

A kiss to his prize. To his magnum opus. His eyes stay fixed on it- nothing matters so long as it is in his arms. "I'm serving him. I'm fixing him."

🐈💙🐺

"No." the Yearner snarls. "No, you're not fixing him. I'll be the one doing that. Give him to me!"

She moves before he can say a word. Only a Licenciate's instincts save his head from being separated from its shoulders by a sharpened spike of ice. He dives out of the way of a furious flurry of stabs, and stumbles to keep hold of his prize- only to see the Yearner tear off her dress in front of him.

He blinks in disbelief before seeing it- connected to her body are numerous pulsating hearts. The blood vessels tear holes in the thin shirt she wore underneath, and wet the fabric in frozen blood. Nourishing her as they draw ever closer to death. How many people have been killed- perhaps permanently- to sustain her existence?

She grins wickedly, cosmogone eyes shining with Parabolan light. "You won't bring him back. Cups wouldn't have done it either, I'm sure. The Masters have experience with bringing the dead back- done it five times now. But it never works, not really, does it?" she spits out the words. "You don't know what it's like. To live knowing you are a failure. A failed attempt to bring someone ELSE back!? Do you want him to live like this, you bastard?! Give him to me. I'll give him life- his own life! He doesn't deserve to be the monument to your vanity!”

🐈💙🐺 🔫⛄

“You barely know how-" the Scientist curses and ducks around another flurry, flailing in a desperate attempt to keep his 'lover' close. He ducks and weaves around the room with expert precision- but his movements are more than slightly hindered by the weight of a corpse larger than he is tall. That... no, that can't be right-

"He won't be a failure." Caeru spits back, pressed against the spikes still binding the Silverer- can't she hear, some part of his mind wonders? What does she think of him? Of what he's done?

He gasps for air that comes stiff and frozen solid. His pistol is long-since discarded- useless, now, but he can't help looking at it and swallowing down his guilt. All the more reason to throw himself down the nearest well, really. At least it's worth it. At least he's worth it. At least it'll all be over soon.

"He's not finished, he's not fixed yet-" he dives away from yet another attempt to spear him in the head. "Do you really think I'd attempt the same experiment twice without learning from my mistakes?! He'll be better. He'll be- he'll be different. He'll be everything." he sounds utterly delirious. "He'll be everything you were meant to be."

The Yearner hisses- and her blade moves for the Scientist's neck with unbelievable speed. There will be no dodging this one. Encumbered as he is, he has to drop the bundle if he wants to dodge- and that he will never do. He closes his eyes-

And only opens them a second later, after the sound of flesh being cleaved resounds. He is- he is not on the slow boat. He sees the Silverer before him, blocking the Yearner's blade with her own arm. A steady trickle of blood is falling from the grievous-looking wound- the cut was such that it exposed the bone.

"Oh, hello. Does it hurt?" the Yearner remarks.

"Not... at all." the Silverer scoffs.

"What if I do this?"

The Noman wriggles her arm and the blade twitches on the spot it's stuck on. The Silverer yelps and wrenches herself free, before falling. There are holes torn all over her legs- even the Shapeling Arts couldn't hold back the blood loss indefinitely. She collapses, overwhelmed by pain. The sound that emerges from the Scientist's throat is one of near-inhuman agony.

For no reason in particular: Did you know Caeru's biggest fear is watching his loved ones die in front of him (especially while he's unable to save them?)

The Yearner laughs. "Guess it's just the two of us again. Now, hand it over. Or I'll tear your arms off.”

Caeru drops the bundle without thinking, kneeling over the Silverer and cradling her in his arms, barely acknowledging the Yearner's presence. Louise's name is all but chanted under his breath- he struggles to breathe. Blood soaks through his coat. Her head is held close against his heart. His hands scramble to stop the bleeding, to fix her, to save her, to- to-

His head darts up as the Yearner takes a step towards the bundle. His eyes are wide. An utterly distraught sob. He doesn't stop her. He only turns back to his (still living) paramour and desperately tries to keep her that way.

"Idiot." he mumbles into the Silverer's hair, still on the verge of delirium. "You didn't need to- you didn't-"

And thus, the Yearner wins this round. But the story isn't over quite yet.

He looks back just long enough to glare up at the Yearner. He spits. "I should've fed you to the Knot of Tails when I had the chance."

"You should have." the Yearner nods. "I agree on that, now."

She kicks the Scientist square in the jaw. Her delicate shoe goes flying off into the distance, and she leaps for the bundle. Before the Scientist can recover from his daze, she rips the cloth around it, and then her arm moves for one of the hearts in her chest- tearing it off in one clean motion. Blood- deathly cold- sprays everywhere. She shoves the heart into the chest of the Scientist's project, and it- horror of horrors- twitches. It opens its eyes, and gasps- before once again falling into utter silence.

"It worked." she grins. "That's what it needs, right? Life. You've been working with mountain-sherds, trying to breathe life into it- but you don't know anything. You don't know what you are doing, you've been getting nowhere. Your love needs life to come back. Life has to come from somewhere."

The many hearts on her body twitch and wriggle as she turns to leave, the body still in her hands, bathing her in apocyan light. "Don't worry. I have a lot of life to give."

She runs off, and Caeru can see-

The body is half-lacre, half-skeletal, and all mannequin. A horror of sable wood casings enveloping the lacre beneath like a shield, virtually impossible to separate without ripping it all apart. His chest is exposed just enough to betray the underlying array of cracked ribs, and inside lays a diamond shining brilliant apocyan. The light floods his body and leaks freely out of an exposed, half-finished eyesocket.

He's sturdier than the Yearner, clearly. Built to last. Built to survive. Not an accident, like she was, but something else entirely. He shudders, white hair flowing in waves down to her feet- his hands dig into her shoulders on instinct.

He meets Caeru’s eyes. He doesn't say a word.

Caeru watches them go, and tries not to scream. He fails spectacularly.

He stumbles to his feet, still cradling his paramour- he takes one step after them, then sobs. The Silverer twitches in his arms. His mind races.

If he leaves her, if he fails again, if he-

He turns tail and shoves coils of hissing Fingerkings aside, ducking into Parabola as the Yearner escapes. He'll regroup, he swears, he'll come back, he'll fix this, he'll fix everything, he'll-

He sets his paramour down and frantically sets about bandaging her wounds. The past can wait. He only has one Louise.

"I love you." he whispers uselessly. "I'm sorry. I love you. I'm so sorry-"

The Scientist's involvement in this tale ends here- left with many regrets, many things to answer for, and many wounds to try and heal.

Some, he succeeds at. Others, he does not.

But this was never about him in particular.

Far away is the Yearner, retreating to a lair in the swamps. A knock on the door, two knocks- and the Scarred Naturalist looks at her in disbelief. "What on earth is that?"

She enters, and places the body on the dining table without a word, knocking wooden plates and silverware (a strange contrast, indeed) aside. The body twitches, the sole heart connected to its chest pulsating madly as it slowly but surely withers into nothing. Her hand hovers over a cracked rib.

"We'll have to find replacements." she whispers.

The Naturalist shrugs. He doesn't know what this is all about, but he supports her interests, as always. He finds the Yearner is a surprisingly good influence on his master. Why, the master of silks has been startingly cheery since they've started their rivalry. "The swamp will provide," he notes. "Plenty of bodies around.

The Yearner nods. "Tell Veils I'm calling in that favour, too. It can provide far better materials than that fool of a scientist could. Ask it for wood- sturdy. Elder Continent- something that soaks in the light of the Mountain." she pauses. "Keep him safe. The box of hearts is under my bed- feed one to him every hour. I'll be leaving. I believe Fires had a shipment of apocyan lanterns sent over to Varchas? Surely nobody will notice if I take one..”

She takes a heavy coat, and steps out of the shack. She has a mission.

-

The body does not move for... quite some time. It merely stares up at the ceiling in idle bafflement, digging its claws into the table. It opens its mouth. All that emerges is a sickening click-

He closes his mouth. The heart shudders, and he goes with it. He rolls to his left and spends minutes on end staring at his hands in open fascination- another click.

He twists the joints on his fingers. He lifts his head, and while he may not have proper eyes- the empty stare of his eyesocket and the sickening glow of the apocyan leaking from his face is nothing short of disturbing.

He watches at the Naturalist for a long moment. Another click, as he opens his mouth, and then closes it. A claw unwisely pokes around the heart on his chest, another hand gesturing vaguely to the house around it. Finally, it manages to croak in a low rumble, like an oncoming storm- "Where?"

The Naturalist raises an eyebrow. "Bugsby's Marshes." at the confused look he gets back, he raises it further. "Watchmaker's Hill?" a pause. "The Fifth City, Fallen London? The Neath?" he chuckles. "My my. You're quite uninformed. I suppose it's just fair..."

He walks over to a cabinet, and takes out- is that skin? Human skin. A face. "You've just been born, haven't you?" He offers the face. It's fair-skinned and pudgy. He grins devilishly. "Perhaps a trip to the city would alert your senses."

(The Yearner didn't say he had to stay in the cabin. Just that he had to be kept safe- and that he needed the hearts.)

The Naturalist looks at the homunculus in front of him expectantly, and smiles again. It's not a nice smile.

The body's own face is carved from wood, and thus, cannot blanch- but its face certainly does scrunch up in noticeable revulsion. "No thank you." he says quickly, practically shoving it away. "I'm," he pauses, "Not, hungry?"

He reaches up- the heart beats faster. His finger dips into his eye. He could swallow, if he knew how. He sits up and stares down at his own body in obvious bafflement.

London. He's in London. In... what was it? Bugsby's Hill? This must be a dream.

He slides off the table, trips over his own hair, and falls facefirst onto the ground with a loud thud. A very strange dream indeed.

"...a trip would be appreciated, thank you..." oddly polite, for a newborn homunculus. If a bit laughable.

"My, you're clearly not fine." the Naturalist says. "And you can't go out like this, either way. I'll find you a suit. I have... one." the fact it belonged to someone the Yearner had hunted and killed probably doesn't matter. "Hm. But it's not your size. Maybe..."

He leaves the room to fetch something while the homunculus twitches on the ground. The body practically claws his way up to the wall as he tries once more to get his footing. 'Practically', of course, meaning 'leaves stark grooves in the wallpaper as though he was a particularly rambunctious kitten'.

Finally, the Naturalist returns with a cloak- torn in several places and repaired with careful carelessness. A trophy of war, a legendarily expensive article of clothing torn from the body of a Master and carefully, extensively defaced. Reworked and remade. He offers it.

"Thank you." a stiff sigh as he wraps the cloak around himself, tugging the hood over his head without a second thought. The illusion of anonymity is only slightly marred by the apocyan glow and uncomfortable resemblance to a Master of the Bazaar.

One hesitant step, then another. One more, for good measure. The homunculus looms above the Naturalist, voice rattling like gravel. "Who did you say you were..?" he looks at the door. "You and that- ah. Ice...? Ice. Woman. With the. Eyes." his tone reeks of disbelief.

"Quite tall..." the Scarred Naturalist mutters. "Ah, well. I am a Scarred Naturalist, just a humble scholar living here after my... let us call it an involuntary exile from academia. Unfortunately, prejudice tends to get in the way of scientific advancement... no matter." he coughs. "My associate is the Yearner, a hunter living on the marshes in search of a particularly elusive beast. She brought you here. Given by your state you must have been in quite a situation! Do you remember anything in particular? Have you an address to return to, perhaps?"

The body tilts his head roughly 45 degrees and ponders for a moment. "I run an inn," he looks up, vain as it may be, "Quite far from here. My, ahem, business partner- last I recall, I was bidding him farewell for the morning..."

He trails off and stares into space, not lost in any specific memory, but simply caught in a wave of utter bafflement at the holes in his own mind. "Next I remember, I was carried here by the Yearner. And now I look like-"

He stops, and raises a hand once again. The lacre coats his palms- fresh, vulnerable spots where his mannequin-like casing has not yet been applied. The apocyan dims. "-Like, this." he stands in silence for a long minute. His gaze, though unreadable, is inevitably drawn back to the face- the. Face.

He takes a step back. "Well! Now that I think about it! I really must be going!" he spins on his feet and twists the doorknob with forced cheer, barely able to keep the tremors out of his voice. "It was lovely meeting you, I'm quite grateful for your assistance, tell your associate she's a delight, but if you can just direct me to the nearest path back upwards-?"

He smiles. His mouth is full of uneven, half-formed teeth. "I'd hate to take up too much of your time. I'm sure you're busy doing... busy marsh things."

"Upwards...?" the Naturalist mutters. There's a grudge here. "Never been upwards." he says, too low for the homunculus to hear at all. "Not like they'd take us. The sun hates us more then Stone does. No, no path upwards for me…”

He composes himself, and gives his conversation partner an amused look. "I am loath to inform you, but there is no path upwards. Have you seen yourself, young man? The sun would scour you utterly. To ashes. It does not take kindly to Neathy things- and perhaps you should take a look at yourself? Thoroughly Neathy, that body of yours."

He reveals a mirror, and on it, the cloaked shadow can finally see his face. He tugs down his hood and stares. He's quiet for a time. A trembling hand caresses his cheek (hollow and wooden and false), then scratches at his beard (snow-white and soft as silk), then traces along his scars (carved deliberately and carefully into his face, as though replicating something that was already there).

The Naturalist continues, regardless of his guest's confusion. He sounds quite amused by the whole affair. "Do not worry. I am sure my roommate could not let you go without a shelter for the night- and when you wake up, Penstock's Land Agency will be ready and waiting. We could find you a home here- and perhaps arrange for mail to the Cumaean Canal? I'm sure that ‘business partner’ of yours might have explanations for what happened- and for these apparent gaps in your memory."

A soft sound escapes the body's mouth, indecipherable. He brings a hand up to the apocyan-lit hole in his left eye- and flinches on instinct when his claws dip into it with ease. "Thoroughly..."

There's awe, yes. Horror, most certainly. A hint of amazement. Most of all, complete and utter bafflement.

"But- I have people to get back to, I can't just-" he blinks. "Mail... that. Would be appreciated, yes. Thank you kindly." he looks back at the door. Without speaking, he steps outside- and stops, staring up at the false stars in open awe.

One tentative step, then another. He marvels at the world like a newborn babe.

"What is this?" he doesn't particularly expect an answer. "What... am I?"

The city is alive. Even at this hour, Watchmaker's Hill bustles with activity.

The Starved Embassy's ambered glow and the visitors from the Roof who walk the streets, the Clay Men who pass in stoic silence- the hawkers, the conmen offering rostygold for whoever beats them at arm-wrestling (hiding brass tacks between their fingers as they brag about their prowess), the marksmanship competitions for prizes of jade! The scholars debating the nature of the stars, taking blind steps towards the observatories. The criers announce Feducci's fighting rings, the chittering of surprisingly articulate insects and the growling of the marsh-beasts.

Fallen London stands before the Shadow in all its glory, this strange and wild city of a thousand stories. It gazes at him with mirth.

The Shadow gazes back.

He tugs up his hood and strolls along in absolute wonder- his hand dwarfs a wrestler's own as he pins their arm with ease, barely noticing tacks against wooden 'skin'. His voice is eager and enthralled as astronomers entertain each and every one of his questions about the 'stars' in the 'sky'. A sorrow spider creeps up his elbow- he plucks it by the leg and dangles it in front of his eyes. A half-hearted smile. It disappears into his cloak, and does not return.

Everyone gives him a wide berth, but if this bothers him, he doesn't voice it. This must be a dream- it is a dream, surely, but even so, there's no harm in enjoying it while it lasts.

He'll wake up eventually. He'll see his partner eventually.

Anxiety dies as he stops on the edge of a hill and gazes up at the firmament. London's invitation is easy to accept- after all, in a city of a thousand stories, surely an explanation lies within one.

Barely glancing at the Naturalist behind him, he wanders off into London's heart. Lacre trails in his wake.

It's a beautiful day to be alive.

[roanofarcc]

PROJECT SUNSHINE CHAPTER FORTY → FAMILY MATTERS

summary: steve harrington x oc | on ao3

when another product of Hawkins National Laboratory escaped a long-survived nightmare alongside her sister, she crashed into one unsuspecting teenage boy and dragged him deeper into the dark mysteries that made up their hometown.

word count. 3.7k || masterlist

warnings: cannon typical violence, child abuse, horror, gore, and depictions of mental illness. parts of this story were written pre-season 4 release. cannon divergence.

a/n: sad steve hours :( I don't think we'll ever get the harrington's lore so I'm creating my own.

previous chapter ← → next chapter

A constant tension hummed through the Harrington household whenever Steve’s parents were home, which wasn’t often. But, when they were, Steve tried to avoid his house as much as he could.

They had arrived home two days prior and were set to leave that morning for another business trip. Steve managed to avoid them for most of their stay; he used the excuse of work to get out of family dinners and small talk that almost always ended in some kind of argument. The tension between his mom and dad was bad enough without him entering the mix. 

The bitterness between his parents had been brewing since Steve was little. They tried to save face for a long time, but as he grew older, they dropped the act while at home. His dad was getting sloppier hiding the fact that he was sleeping with his revolving door of secretaries, or maybe he didn’t care to hide it anymore. And his mom was getting worse at pretending she didn’t know exactly what he was doing. Steve had no idea why they stayed together; it wasn’t for his sake.

If given the choice, he’d love to move somewhere with his mom and forget all about his dad. She used to be his favorite person in the entire world, but something changed in her. She became cold and poured all of her time and energy into work. Maybe she wanted to prove to her husband that, while she may be replaceable as a partner, she couldn’t be replaced in the office. Because of that, she stopped coddling Steve and nearly stopped paying attention to time altogether. They had a reputation to uphold, though, and all of them had gotten a little too good at putting on a believable act while in public. His parents didn’t want a divorce to ruin their squeaky clean image while outside their home. 

Steve sat at their kitchen island, eating a bowl of cereal before his shift at Scoop Ahoy. His parents had busied themselves packing, and he thought he’d be in the clear of them. They’d bid him goodbye as they walked out the door and that would be that. Unfortunately, luck was not on his side that morning. 

Heavy footsteps from his dad echoed from down the hall before he entered the kitchen. Out of habit, Steve sunk back in his seat, thinking maybe his dad would miss him entirely. But, as the gray-haired man poured himself a mug of coffee, he turned to look at Steve with his usual, stoic expression. 

“Your mother and I won’t be back until after the holiday,” he said. “Can you manage to keep the house in one piece until then?” Every word out of his dad’s mouth was wrapped in a patronizing tone. He thought Steve was an idiot and like he hadn’t been left home alone since he was ten years old.

“I always do,” Steve replied, suddenly not interested in his breakfast and more ready to get to work than he had been all summer. He stood up and headed to the sink. 

“You know,” his dad began, before taking a long sip of his black coffee. Steve inwardly groaned as he washed his bowl. “If you had put any effort at all into your college application, you could have joined us on this trip and gained real-world experience. I could have secured you an internship for the fall.”

It was the same lecture since he graduated at the end of spring. It was phrased slightly different each time, but it carried the same message: Steve was the family's disappointment, and he should feel bad about it. He turned out nothing like his dad, and that was an issue. Hell, in his dad’s eyes, it was the end of the world that Steve wasn’t accepted into every Ivy League school in the country, and he wasn’t the strongest candidate to work at the company that employed three generations of Harrington men. He was supposed to be the fourth and after he married some dull housewife, his son was supposed to be the fifth. But he had spent too much time “screwing around” and his dad would rather have been caught dead than bring Steve anywhere near his place of work with his less-than-average GPA and a handful of unsubmitted college applications. 

“Maybe next year,” Steve muttered, begging his dad to drop it. He avoided the daggers the man stared into the back of his head as he placed his bowl and spoon on the drying rack and moved to retreat to his car. He didn’t make it halfway across the kitchen, though, before his dad started speaking again. 

“That’s your problem. You see everything as an issue for later. You put everything off because you are too goddamn lazy to take any responsibility for yourself.”

With a quiet sigh, Steve stopped in his tracks and turned to meet the cold gaze of his dad. “I got the job you wanted me to. And I already started filling out applications for next year.” Irritation itched under his skin, and he had the urge to scratch it. “I don’t know what else you want me to do.” He knew his words were leading him into a winless fight, but his parents' lack of understanding of the hell he had been through over the last two years was eating away at him. It became harder and harder to stand his dad’s constant jabs about how “lazy” and “childish” he was. 

It wasn’t like he wasn’t trying. In his parents' eyes, he was nothing more than an irresponsible kid who had no clue what he was doing with his life. They thought he didn’t know how the real world worked, but Steve knew a hell of a lot more about the “real” world than they did. He couldn’t tell them that, though, no matter how badly he wanted to. The truth burned like acid in his throat, but he was forced to swallow it down every time he was lectured. 

His dad scoffed. “What I want is for you to think about the future of this family and of the company. You’re not a child anymore. You are an adult and it's about damn time you start acting like it.” He sat down his mug and set his jaw before he continued; Steve knew he was really into it now. “It’s time you stop running around with that Torres girl and those kids you babysit and start doing something with your life.” 

Steve wanted to laugh. He wanted to scream. He wanted to tell his dad how he had done more with his life in the past two years than what was even comprehensible. Steve fought monsters, met the smartest kids in Indiana, and helped save their shitty hometown from certain doom. That was all thanks to “that Torres girl” and the kids he “babysat.” If it weren’t for them, he probably would be starting his miserable journey down the same path as his dad. 

“Right, because your life looks like a blast,” he mumbled under his breath, but in the quiet house it was easy to hear. Steve didn’t wake up looking for a fight that morning, but he inched closer and closer to the end of his rope when it came to his dad. It was a fight he knew he’d lose, but he didn’t care. 

“Excuse me?” 

Steve swallowed down his creeping childhood fear of his dad that told him to stop and back down. He rolled his shoulders back and tried to look a little taller. “Maybe I don’t want to be miserable like you and mom. I don’t want to work for you. Have you ever thought about that?” A small surge of confidence filled his chest, and he didn’t want to waste it. “Not that you or Mom have ever cared to ask me what I want. In fact, I don’t remember the last time either one of you asked me about anything!” 

“You better lower your voice, boy,” his dad warned in a cold and low tone. He stepped toward Steve, sizing him up, before he said, “I don’t care what you want. If you had shown us that you were capable of making your own decisions, maybe we could have talked about it, but any conversation we could have had is long out of the question now. That ship sailed when you decided to waste your high school education by doing God only knows what. You don’t get the luxury of a choice, son.” The way he called Steve ‘son’ wasn’t loving but mocking. 

Steve’s jaw clenched in a mix of anger and frustration. He felt the ghost of hand cramps from all the paperwork he had to sign over the past two years to ensure that everything he saw and knew stayed buried, but at that moment, he wanted to shove it all back in his dad’s face. He wanted the man to feel bad. He wanted him to care. He wanted him to feel guilty.

“You never even asked me why I didn’t turn in my applications on time or why my grades slipped! You don’t care about anything other than our family’s reputation. Who gives a shit?!” 

That was the breaking point for both Steve and his dad. The anger and resentment tumbled from his lips and were met with instant regret. He knew where raising his voice at his dad would get him, and he didn’t bother to apologize. A small, sick part of him wanted to make his dad angry. 

With his back pressed against the counter, he watched as his dad quickly crossed the short distance between them. His hand latched onto Steve’s wrist, pulling it off of the edge of the counter before he twisted it in an unnatural fashion that caused Steve to hiss out in pain.

“I told you to lower your fucking voice,” his dad spit. “I don’t know what the hell has gotten into you or why you think you can speak to me like that, but you’ll knock it off if you know what’s good for you.”

Steve bit in tongue and stared at his dad. His eyes were darker than Steve’s and his mother’s. They resembled bitter black coffee and were almost always narrowed into thin slits, constantly in a state of anger or displeasure. The man’s face glowed red in the warm morning light, and the vein in his forehead became visible. Fingernails dug into Steve’s skin, but that pain was overshadowed by the way his wrist was bent downwards. The pain intensified by the second, and Steve found himself feeling incredibly small as if he was still a child being scolded. In his dad’s eyes, that was exactly what he was. 

“I don’t care why you screwed up,” his dad continued. He didn’t care about the monsters Steve faced or the fights he lost two years in a row. “But you will fix it. You will get your shit together or so help me God, I’ll beat the sense into you. Understand?” 

A short beat of silence stretched between them as Steve's last attempt at defiance. But then his dad twisted his wrist even harder, and pain shot up the length of Steve’s arm, forcing him to give in. “Yes,” he muttered. His dad held onto his wrist for a moment longer before the soft click of heels neared the kitchen and Steve’s mom entered. 

“We’re all ready to go,” his mom said, smoothing out the fabric of her blazer. There was never anything out of place on her. Every hair on her head was combed into place and every outfit was creaseless. “You know the rules, Steve. No guests. There’s money in the envelope on the counter for groceries, and we’ll call before our flight back home. All right?” 

Steve just nodded before his mom looked expectantly at her husband. They exchanged short goodbyes with him and wheeled their suitcases out to the car. He watched out the living room window as they pulled out of the driveway and disappeared down the road. 

Once their car was out of sight, Steve collapsed onto the couch, clutching his wrist to his chest and laughing bitterly as tears welled up in his eyes. He felt pathetic and like a child who cried every time he was scolded. It used to drive his dad crazy when he was a little boy. Steve would do something stupid, he’d get yelled at, and then he’d cry into his mom’s arms as she stroked his hair. Then, something shifted inside their home. His dad started doing more than yelling and his mom stopped running to aid. So, Steve took to different ways of taking out the emotions that raged inside his chest. It started with cigarettes and then that was paired with beers Tommy H. took from his cousin.

But he didn’t have those things anymore because the smell of cigarette smoke made Sunshine cough and Dustin wouldn’t stop rattling off the health risks. He wasn’t friends with Tommy H. and Hawkins was too small for him to buy beer illegally from the liquor store. So, Steve restored to his old ways of coping when he was little and his house began to feel colder and lonelier than normal. He sat on the couch and let a few tears roll down his cheeks as he iced his wrist, praying the bruises left behind wouldn’t be too bad until he had to leave for work. He’d spend the rest of his day pretending like he didn’t have the constant fear that he’d screw everything up like his dad wholeheartedly believed. 

...

The lamp on Sunshine’s bedside journal illuminated the pages of her journal. She sat curled up in a pile of soft blankets and pillows while she jotted down the strings of thoughts inside her head. Beside her bed, the window was cracked, allowing the summer evening breeze to fill the room with the hum of crickets and the smell of July. Her peace was interrupted by a knock at her door. 

“Come in,” she said. Her parents stood at her doorway, looking a bit uneasy which caused instant panic to spread through Sunshine. She closed her journal and tossed it onto her bedside table. “Is everything okay?” 

Her mom smiled softly. “Everything’s fine, sweetie.” She exchanged a glance with her husband before the two entered the room. “Your dad and I just want to talk to you. Is that all right?”

Sunshine nodded and made a space at the end of her bed for them to sit. “Talk about what?” 

“We want to help you,” Mary-Jane began, talking carefully like she had rehearsed what she was going to say beforehand. “But, you know, we can’t do that if you don’t talk to us.”

She was confused. All things considered, Sunshine was in a much better place than she thought she’d ever be in. There were days when nightmares ruled her brain and sadness ached deep in her bones from old wounds that never healed properly, but the monsters were defeated and almost everyone she’d ever cared for was safe and without arms reach. Things were better in Hawkins. They weren’t perfect, but they were better than she expected they’d be. 

“Help me?” 

Her mom reached out and placed a warm hand on Sunshine’s knee. She tried to fake a reassuring look, but it came off to Sunshine as more worried. That look alone caused guilt to creep up on Sunshine. 

“We want to understand what happened to you. We want you to feel like you can trust us with that information, and we want to help you through it. Whatever you’ve gone through, whatever you’re still dealing with, you know you don’t have to suffer through it alone now,” her dad said. Sunshine felt her face pale. She felt backed into a corner all of a sudden, with her parents on either side of her staring with looks of concern that became suffocating. 

Even if Sunshine was allowed to tell her parents the truth, she wouldn’t burden them with the truth. She also couldn’t bear to tell them the things she had done inside the Lab. The truth of the Lab and the Upside down were not easy things for people’s minds to comprehend. But she was also selfish; she worried that if her parents heard the full story, they wouldn’t see her as their little girl anymore and that was all Sunshine had ever wanted to be. She wanted to be cared for and doted on like a child should be. What if she told them and they gave up on her? What if they wished she had never come back at all? The last thing Sunshine wanted was to be seen as Seven, not Sunshine or Danielle. 

Swallowing thickly, Sunshine’s gaze fell onto her hands in her lap. “I know that,” she said. “But I’m okay. Really, I’m fine.”

Walter sighed, rubbing the worry lines on his forehead that Sunshine probably caused. “You don’t have to lie to us. We understand that it’s not easy for you.” 

Her mom added, “We thought if we gave you enough time, you’d come to us and talk. But we can’t keep avoiding this conversation. We want to understand what you went through so that we can help you.” 

Nothing they could do or say could “fix” Sunshine. No amount of recanting her time inside the Lab would ease her mind or reverse the strange glow she could create in her palms. There was nothing that could scrub her mind clean of the doctors, the dead kids, or the monsters she faced. It all would be a part of her forever. 

“I’m doing a lot better,” she pushed, trying to get them to stop, but they were adamant. 

“If that were true, you wouldn’t wake up in the middle of the night screaming and calling out names we don’t know. Your nightmares haven’t gone away; it’s been almost three years.” Her mom’s eyes became glossy and rose red. Sunshine didn’t want her to cry; she couldn’t handle it. The guilt squeezed her heart and skin hot as her mom continued, “If you just talk to us about them, about your nightmares at least, that’s a start. We can help you, but not if you don’t talk to us. Please, sweetheart. We just want to understand.” 

The crack in her mom’s voice and the similar glassy-eyed look on her dad's face nearly sent Sunshine over the edge. She had to lie to them. She had to in order to protect them, to protect herself, and to protect her parents from herself. 

“I promise, I’m okay. I just…I really don’t want to talk about it, okay?” Her mom hung her head, her dad sighed, and Sunshine’s stomach twisted in awful knots. 

There was a brief pause before her dad steadied himself and reeled in his emotions a little bit more than her mom. “Are you protecting someone?” he asked. “The names you say in your sleep, were there other people with you, wherever you were?” 

There were so many people, but only a few that she could still protect. There were kids, with their sad little faces pressed against windows and skinny fingers moving game pieces inside the Rainbow Room. There were doctors and scientists who poked and prodded her until her skin was bruised and brain manipulated in more ways than one.

“No,” Sunshine sighed. “They’re just nightmares. I don’t even remember what happens in them after I wake up. But if there was something wrong, I’d tell you. Right now, I just want to forget about what happened. I want to move on.” 

Mary-Jane pulled her hand away from Sunshine’s knee and sat in tense silence for a moment. She twisted the fabric of her skin in between her fingers, a nervous habit Sunshine had noticed. “If you don’t want to talk to us, maybe we could take you to speak to a professional, someone more versed in this kind of thing? I know there are good doctors in Chicago. Maybe they-” 

“No doctors,” Sunshine rushed out. “I don’t need to talk to a professional. If you guys want to help me, just treat me like a normal teenager. I want to feel normal. That’s how I’m going to move on.” 

Her mom and dad shared a look Sunshine could read before Walter nodded with slight dejection. “All right,” he said. “If that’s what you think will help, then I think we can manage that. But if things get worse, if these nightmares get worse, we’ll have to take you to see a professional, okay?” 

Sunshine fiddled with her necklace as her mom added, “We need you to understand that we only want what is best for you. And we know you want to work past what happened. We’ll work with you, sweetheart, but you’ve got to be honest with us. Keeping everyone bottled up inside is not healthy.” She wished it were that simple. She wished all she had to do was tell her parents the truth and all of her nightmares would stop. If all she had to do was tell the truth to fix herself, she would have already done it. The truth wouldn’t erase the monsters or bad men. 

Looking between her parents, Sunshine found her voice. “And I need you guys to trust me."

“And we need you to be safe. We need you to feel safe here, and safe with yourself,” her mom said. But Hawkins wasn’t safe, not really. It never had been and it probably would never fully be. But, as long as Sunshine was there, she could keep it safe for the people whom she cared about inside the town. 

“I am. I do,” said Sunshine. “I promise.” A small yawn escaped her lips, and she prayed it was enough to get her parents to give up. To her luck, it was. They stood up from her bed and took turns pressing a kiss to the crown of her head before they bid her goodnight. She sank back into her pile of pillows and muffled a groan into a blanket she pulled over her head. Before her mind could attack her with more “what-ifs” and guilt, she squeezed her eyes shut and let sleep overtake her.

Tagged. @sattlersquarry , @leptitlu , @drunkengodsofslaughter

[himluv]

DA Review Series: Until We Sleep

After a little break in posting, I'm reading to continue this review series!

<<< Previous Review: Those Who Speak

Title: Until We Sleep Author/Illustrator: David Gaider/Chad Hardin Publication Year: 2012 In-World Year: ~9:38 Dragon Verdict: Another great installment that offers some closure for Maric and Alistair, and opens the door for Maevaris. And, there's some more good lore here as well!

Until We Sleep picks up just after Those Who Speak. Isabela, Varric, and Alistair are sailing with the Qunari to a ruined fortress called Ath Venaris, where Aurelian Titus has holed up to complete his ritual to restore Tevinter to its glory days.

Varric narrates this issue, and I felt like his voice was very strong and consistent throughout the graphic novel. I liked how he would narrate one thing, but the art told us another, showing how he could be unreliable if he felt it would better benefit the story OR he wanted to protect a friend.

Basically, the gang rolls up on this fortress to stop Aurelian, Varric finds Maevaris in a dungeon, clearly tortured, and Maric is suspended from the ceiling and connected to a blood magic artifact that's enhancing Aurelian's powers.

It seems like dragon blood is even more potent than human blood when it comes to fueling magic — which is alluded to in the recent Dragon Age: Absolution! — and Maric and Alistair carry dragon blood from their Calenhad lineage.

We also learn that Calenhad was (possibly) aided by a mysterious witch in his rise to glory in uniting Ferelden. Hmmm.... Who could that be, I wonder?

Anyway, things go sideways in their efforts to save Maric, and everybody winds up in the Fade. There we meet Bianca Davri (or her likeness, anyway) and learn that Varric is in love with her and wanted them to run away together. Obviously, none of which actually happened.

The gang reunites in the Fade and defeats Aurelian, but Maric is too depleted and wasted from the ritual to be saved. Alistair doesn't take the news well, and seems even more bitter than when the story started. Isabela seems to have dropped her name, opting for simply "Captain". And Varric presumably returns to Kirkwall. The End.

This series opens a lot of doors while closing very few. There's a lot here that Bioware could still pull from and for that reason I think this series is a must read for fans. It's also interesting because it isn't actually connected to any of the games. The plot is completely standalone, it isn't caused by DA2 and it doesn't directly influence DAI. It's just a side quest with familiar faces that provides so many jumping off points for the franchise, should they choose to use them.

I'm hoping we'll continue to see the use of dragons in magic rituals (sorry dragons!) because I want to learn what the hell is up with this whole dragon blood thing. It seems important, but underdeveloped/utilized in the series so far. Fingers crossed, I guess!

[somegirlontheinternet135]

For Everyone Upset Golden Cheese Not Coming Out:

~There could be a lot of good reasons as to why, and I have a few theories~

For starters, it's safe to say that this issue isn't going unnoticed by Devsis themselves, clearly stated via their tweets, dialogue of the game, and her more recent bayview in the "Happy Birthday Gingerbrave" loading screen. With this given information, not only does this tell us that they planning on making GC playable, it's also means that she maybe somewhere this year. Ok, so we know that GC will come out, we just don't know when, here's how I see it:

Golden Cheese is probably going to be next big update, regarding the exploration map. If you were there for the Slumbering Moon or Lengend Of Red Dragon updates, you would know that they big on terms of lore and content. Well, it's likely that both those updates(not counting TCC), burnt the a large hole in their wallet, especially with the in both updates' animations, Pitaya Dragon's gacha animation, and the Slumbering Moon epilogue story. It would also make sense with all the super epics coming out recently, likely to save up money for that update

Wanting to keep Golden Cheese a suprise is likely another reason why they're keeping her on the down low. A good example of this is ( and some of you are probably gonna hate me for this) Vivziepop; when talking about her interpretations of the 7 deadly sins, she didn't say much as to not spoil anything and to leave the fans guessing. Although Vivz never said anything straight up, she left little breadcrumbs for the fans to get an idea of what each sin is like(e.g being in HB) As you can tell, this is almost what Devsis, giving us tiny hints and clues of what GC has been could be up to through the dialogue, despite them being rather vague

This isn't much of a theory, but I feel like it's important to note. Anyone how'd played past the Slumbering Moon update would know that Devsis just loves to drop deep lore about the characters like it's nothing, whether it be a character's backstory(Black Pearl) or building on important characters in the story(White Lily). And sure, this may be the Devsis way of giving content to characters how haven't been of screen for a long time. But when you put into consideration, they could literally drop Golden Cheese lore at any given moment. . . at any time. . . and if to make things better, maybe we'll get some more Golden Cheese lore and clues the next update!!

Overall, I do hope we'll get some GC by the end of this year, till then, I look to future with cautious hope. . .

(Before anything happens, I wrote this post not to defend the company "Devsisters," but rather to educate, entertain, and to give my theories of what could be happening behind the scenes. Do I think Golden Cheese Cookie is set to be released this year? Definitely! Do I also think Devsis is trying to stretch things out and make as much money as possible? Absolutely! They're a shady company who'd done messed up things in the past!! Which many people like myself try to remind neutral despite this. So end of day, I only want to enjoy this game but be aware as its flaws)

Sorry if this's getting too long, had to clarify this

[aewinning]

Hey you!!! Long time no chatting (uni is still kicking my ass, possibly harder than last time) it's me, the anon who begged for the scara/tighnari maintenance fic (tbh i still brag about that, it was an AMAZING fic). I just read "A Certain Dreamlike Quality"!!! Fucking chef's kiss. Very very nice. Lovely concept as usual. And Kavetham felt even more in character than ever. I really really liked the comment about Kaveh treating Alhaitham's granny's journals with care, it was very sweet. And i also started thinking about that whole porn trade in Port Osmos. Like yeah it makes sense, Teyvat SHOULD have pornography. Probably not what u wanted the reader to focus on but it did seem like a nice subtle world-building element. Either way, really good work!!! Also ur gonna get Baizhu soon!! I think i remember u being excited about him finally being playable. If im mistaken then sorry lol. Im saving up for kaveh. Anyways have a nice day!!! Looking forward to more delicious writing!! 🤗

Hello hello! Welcome back and I hope university eases up on you soon! Thank you for the kind comment and I'm glad you enjoyed the fic, it was so much fun to write. I do hope to do more for them at some point especially after Kaveh's profile/lore drops, but right now I'm working on getting out the third fic in my Baizhu/Childe/Zhongli series haha.

I did spend a lot of time figuring out where Alhaitham would go for sex research of the places we've been, lol. I probably thought about it TOO much, to be honest. My thoughts:

Mondstadt probably has plenty of naughty content, being as open as it is, likely in poem or novel form for the most part? Liyue probably has more traditional erotic paintings and a few instruction manuals, often in less savory sales stalls off the main street (like under the docks).

Same for Inazuma, though it may not be an art form that's flourished while Inazuma was in the grip of so many decrees. I bet it's about to undergo a renaissance though, with the loosening of restrictions and resumption of imports. And Sumeru...the Akademiya probably has some dry old books on sex from people that have never had it, focusing on anatomy, but I imagine Port Ormos the party town probably had quite the fun knowledge capsules when the Akasha was functioning, haha.

Fontaine is probably about 5 years out from filming the first adult movie. idk about Natlan's current status due to the game's allergy to giving us Natlan lore, but Snezhnayans probably pass dirty mags around the barracks and give each other handies to keep warm. And you KNOW there are a lot of pinups that look suspiciously like the Harbingers, lmao.

You are also correct that I am hella looking forward to Baizhu! He's who I've most looked forward to ever since I met him when I started playing in 1.3. Two years of waiting! I have about 360 wishes saved for next patch and unfortunately I want Nahida, Nilou, Baizhu, AND Kaveh, but the good news is that I'm 40ish into pity on a guarantee right now. I may decide to skip Nilou in favor of going for Baizhu's weapon, we'll see. I refuse to go below 180 pulls before his banner, he WILL come home one way or another.

Good luck on your own Kaveh pulls when the time comes! He looks like a really fun unit and I'm planning on triple crowning him myself b/c babygirl deserves to be treated just as well as Alhaitham even if he's not a 5 star. (Which will make...4 dendro guys triple crowned for me. Send help, I have an addiction.)

[smallandfurious]

there may be some spoilers for genshin 2.4 in this though i don't think i went overboard but just in case be warned

2.4 stream just dropped, you know what that means. reminder and infodump time. remember: this is not a fully researched info post, I'm only writing things that cross my mind about the update so I may get some facts wrong or forget some entirely.

remember to redeem your codes and get them in game before they expire, pick a character you'd like to pull for in the upcoming banners and start saving up since there will be a total of 4 banners until the next update and remember to have fun

there's gonna be LOTS of new features and events.

starting off with the face of the update, we'll be getting lantern rite!!!

during lantern rite, there will be fireworks, tons of activities with primogems as rewards, a FREE NINGGUANG SKIN AND ONE FREE 4* CHARACTER FROM LIYUE. there will also be a keqing skin in the wish shop that's gonna be available starting from the release of the event buuut you'll have to pay for it with genesis crystals just like jean.

as for who we'll get to see once again, we'll be seeing a lot of characters get involved with the event's plot this time. though I'm pretty sure all Liyue characters will be somewhere within the event at some point.

ningguang and Yun Jin will be getting their very own hangout events. not sure if shenhe will be getting a story quest or they'll just have her at the archon quest and call it a day

you heard that right, we'll be getting an archon quest for liyue! in it, we as the traveller, will he helping ningguang raise another Jade palace high up into the sky once again! but then some conflict, fights and somewhere in the story SHENHE APPEARS!!!! that's right, shenhe will have an appearance in this archon quest as well as Yun Jin

so to elaborate on our two new characters, Yun Jin is a Chinese opera singer. (oh and disclaimer I've seen people make fun of her singing as Chinese opera sounds drastically different than most western singing so if I catch you McMisbehaving you'll be catching these hands and feet it's a whole culture you know how racist that sounds) Yun Jin is a 4* geo support who's kit focused on normal attacks. the other character we'll be getting is Shenhe which is a 5* cryo support that's focused on buffs for other cryo characters in the team she's in. in lore, she's cursed or something she basically gets homicidal every once in a while the adepti are teaching her all the adepti arts and skills so she pretty much lives a life of seclusion in the mountains alongside the adepti that live within it. she's currently the disciple of none other than Cloud Retainer. she occasionally helps some normal people in need around some parts in Liyue and those people, and them, not knowing her story, assume she's an adeptus so they kinda spread the rumor around that a new adeptus just dropped I guess in addition to all that adepti stuff she's just an exorcist that comes from a family of exorcists (now where did we hear that before)

we will be getting 4 banners this update! yes it's a lot and all of them are very important characters so the order goes

Shenhe(with Yun Jin) and Xiao in the first half and the second half will consist of none other than Zhongli and Ganyu! lots of good banners this time around so be sure to save up a lot since all of these characters are known to be really strong

as for all other events, there will be another domain event with trial characters, an event that... involves one of those tanuki in inazuma? oh and we'll be getting a windtrace rerun!!!!!! I'm so excited!!!!!!!!

a new area will be added which is enkanomiya!!! have y'all seen that giant dark pool under the sangonomiya shrine?? yeah that leads to the underground civilization of enkanomiya!! i don't know much about it but it's just a dark and gloomy place with LOTS of history

some small additions alongside all these new ones are:

there's gonna be a device in the teapot that lets you play some of the game's soundtrack instead of it being randomly picked.

they changed the alchemy table menu a bit so it's easier to scroll

you can go back and forth between inazuma and the other two nations more easily without having to scroll up yourself

that should be the end of it! again, I'm just dropping as much info as I can remember this is not supposed to be a fully informative post so if I got something wrong or missed things I... don't care